


'^' drabbles.*

by amyeonhaseyo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, High School, Homophobia, M/M, Obsession!AU, coz who am i without angst, i cannot drabble help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyeonhaseyo/pseuds/amyeonhaseyo
Summary: drabbles / ficlets gifted to various people who won my "find me a jm fic i haven't read yet!!" challenge on twitteri'll update the tags as we go along :)1 - Mirage. Junmyeon/SUHØ. *runs away sobbing*2 - Letter. Sukai. Highschool. Nini is a bully :(
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Kim Junmyeon | Suho
Comments: 18
Kudos: 26





	1. Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EXO finally has their leader back.
> 
> for @TrendsetterSuho

They’re fussing over him again, one boy after another tripping over themselves trying to do something for him, make things easier for him. The attention is new, the care foreign. He’s not used to it.

“What do you want to eat today, hyung?” one of them asks. What was his name? … _Kyungsoo_ , his mind whispers to him. No, it’s not his own voice he hears. It’s _his_.

_Kyungsoo,_ he’d told him, smile on his lips.

“Maybe soup will do him good, Soo,” Baekhyun says. He can’t forget his name, not after the other said it to him over and over yesterday night, as he gently massaged the suds into his hair. _Baekhyun. The only one who washes your hair for you, hyung. Your cute Baekhyun. Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun._

“Maybe some seaweed soup? You love seaweed soup, hyung,” the cook tells him. “I’ll make it for you even if it’s not your birthday.”

“Apples for dessert!” declares another. “Hyung loves apples, doesn’t he?”

An arm slings itself around his shoulders. It’s the fire-wielder. He gives him a wobbly smile.

The breakfast table is soon ready, the seats filled and the room bursting with boys and clatter and noise and the occasional laughter. He winces inwardly, still not quite used to the contrast of now and then. He really was here, he tries to assure himself. Here, not there. Not in _that_ place. That place with room after room after room, filled with portraits of nothing and boys with the same faces as the ones with him now, but nowhere near as gentle or caring or kind.

“Is it too noisy for you, hyung?” someone whispers at his side. He knows it’s the one named Sehun. His face was just as blank-looking as the one in the museum, sometimes it was downright confusing. But this Sehun was always watching, silently looking out for him from the sidelines like he was doing now.

“No,” he replies. And it’s true. It will never be too noisy for him. In fact, he would rather they drown him in chatter like this all day. It kept the memories away. Of that place. Of its oppressing silence. Of those cold faces. Of the menacing presence always hovering over everything. Of _him._

“Hyung let me sleep in his bed yesterday,” Jongin brags. He did. The teleporter had come to him in the dead of night, voice trembling and asking if he could please sleep with hyung? He’s missed him _so_ much.

Seven faces turn to him at the same time, all with varying degrees of shock.

“Hyung, no fair!” _Jongdae._

“He probably remembers how great of a cuddle partner I am,” Jongin declares with a smug smile.

“Do you?” asks a gentle voice. It’s the healer. It was a simple question, but loaded nonetheless. He can feel the expectant vibe from everyone. They don’t say it, but he knows. They want him to remember. They want him to be himself again. Their hyung. Their fearless leader.

He squirms in his seat, fixing his eyes on his bowl as he shakes his head in shame. He bites his lip at the silence that follows afterwards. They’re all giving him _so_ much and he wants to give something back. He wants to be who they want him to be. He does, he really does.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” someone envelops him from the side with a hug. It’s Minseok, who was just as small as he was but always felt broader and stronger and steadier. He leans into the hug, buries his face into the crook of the other’s neck. A hand gently rubs his back, another cards through his hair and he realizes he’s crying.

“We’ve talked about this,” Kyungsoo’s voice says with a hint of frustration. “Don’t ask those kinds of questions. Don’t pressure hyung. Give him time. This isn’t something we can rush.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Yixing concedes easily. “It just slipped out. I’m sorry,” he knows it’s directed to him now. “Please don’t cry anymore…”

But it makes him cry harder, because they don’t _know_. They’re all too busy thinking they finally have him back to even realize.

He can still see him, almost like he’s burned to the back of his eyelids.

_It was curiosity at first, that makes him seek him out—the boy who looked exactly like him._

_His eyes were unlike all the others in that place. They were sharp yet soft and brimming with wisdom. And most of all…they were alive._

“YIxing is sorry, we all are,” Minseok mumbles into his hair. “We thought we’d lost you, so we’re all compensating too much, I think.”

_He starts seeing him everyday, because he’s different. Because he’s not like the rest._

_Did having the same face mean something? Did it mean they could be friends?_

_One was human and the other was not. One was alive while the other was a mirage, a reflection whose existence was determined by the original._

_“Shhh. You are your own self. You’re not just a copy.”_

_“That’s easy for you to say, you’re the real one.”_

_“You’re just as real as I am.”_

“They put you through hell in that place, and frankly I’m glad you don’t remember.”

_“They’re coming. My brothers. And when they come we’ll get out of here. Together.”_

_“But what if they hate me?”_

_“They won’t. I’ll make them like you.”_

“Whether you remember us or not, it doesn’t matter.”

_But on their way out they are both caught in a room with strange water neither of them can control._

_He is pushed backwards just as the other is swept away._

_“No!” his twin shouts as he makes to save him from the menacing force. “Go. One of us has to make it.”_

_“Then it should be you!”_

“You’re here with us. You’re safe now—“

_“It will be you. I want you to see…the world outside of this place—“_

“—Junmyeon.”

_“—Suhø.”_

Minseok lifts his face and wipes his tears away, inadvertently tracing the scar under his eye. “We’ll all be alright,” he assures him.

_I know,_ he thinks.

_…but what about him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'ed af. also wrote this while in class so idkkk hahaha pls be nice T.T


	2. Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this were two months ago, perhaps Junmyeon’s heart would have fluttered at the sight of a small envelope on his desk. Now, all he could feel as he looked at the letter was pure, cold dread at the pit of his stomach.
> 
> for @zvirk4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo i ficced instead of drabbled lmao i'm so sorry but i love my long sentences too much :((
> 
> Sukai because KOLO!!! Also... Why do I always make sukai suffer? I'm sorry babies ㅠㅠ
> 
> idek if you'll get this gibberish man. but i've been wanting to write this for a while. some of it is inspired by my own experiences. if you're one of the kids who's ever bullied other kids or just stood by as someone else got bullied, pls know that you're a horrible person :)
> 
> trigger warnings for: homophobia, bullying due to homophobia, homophobic slur (the f word)
> 
> and z!! i'm so sorry this was two months late T.T ily and i hope you like this!

If this were two months ago, perhaps Junmyeon’s heart would have fluttered at the sight of a small envelope on his desk. Would have smiled and wondered who it was from (and hoped that it was from a certain olive-skinned boy). Junmyeon was not a stranger to receiving love letters, being quite popular in school. But that was two months ago.

Now, all he could feel as he looked at the letter was pure, cold dread at the pit of his stomach.

He picks it up, knowing the whole class was holding its breath, knowing his classmates were snickering. What was the letter going to be? What kind of joke would Junmyeon be the butt of today?

He tries to ignore the group of boys by the door, evidently staring at him, waiting for him to blush, to smile, to be the lovesick idiot they’d exposed him to be. Junmyeon knows that _he_ was with them. He never had to look. Somehow, his body always knew when Jongin—no, he was called _Kai_ now—was near.

_Junmyeon-ssi,_

_From the moment I saw you I thought you were an angel._

Junmyeon does not allow himself to read beyond the first line of the letter and instead tears it into shreds. He makes sure to keep his face empty, keep his eyes dry. He won’t break infront of these people. He won’t break infront of anyone. Because he was Kim Junmyeon, the student council president and the number one in his year, the student with the brightest future ahead of him.

If only he weren’t gay.

He stuffs the pieces into his pockets and calmly hooks his bag into place. The class murmurs, disappointed that they didn’t get to see Junmyeon embarrassed this morning. But they get over it quickly. After all, they had the whole day ahead of them.

It wasn’t bullying, of course. No, these students were not capable of doing such a horrible thing. These were just _harmless jokes_ , just innocent fun between friends. Or so the principal told Junmyeon’s mom during their meeting, after her son had come home biting his lip to keep from crying, covered from head to toe in flour.

_Junmyeon-ah, should we move you to another school?_

But Junmyeon had shaken his head. It was the middle of the semester, and he was just a few months shy of graduating. Besides, despite his schoolmates’ belief that he was well-off, Junmyeon’s family could not afford a transfer—because that meant tuition fees, book fees, uniform fees. Because that meant spending money that they simply didn’t have.

So Junmyeon smiled instead, assuring his mother that the principal was right, that he wasn’t being bullied. He could tell that his mother did not believe him, much less during the times he came home with a cut on his lip, or with his uniform torn, or with his books dripping wet. During those times she would purse her lips and wordlessly guide him inside. She would sit him in their small kitchen, a warm bowl of soup before him. And she would sit on the only other chair, to mend whatever it was of Junmyeon’s that needed mending.

Neither of them ever cried.

(But his mother came to his room every night, when she thought Junmyeon was asleep. And she would hold his hand and caress his hair, whispering apologies as she silently cried.

_Eomma is sorry, Junmyeon-ah. Eomma is so sorry she can’t protect you.)_

Once again, Junmyeon’s mind wanders off, to back then. To his Jongin, his once shy and awkward friend.

_The olive-skinned boy had been shorter than him back then, all limbs and stuttered speech._

_“H-Hello. I’m Jongin…”_

_“Hello, Jongin. I’m Junmyeon.”_

Junmyeon can see him now, much taller and broader, all angles and menacing smirks. He sits one row infront of Junmyeon, four seats to his right.

Junmyeon stares at him, willing him to notice. Jongin must have felt the weight of his stare, and turns to look at him.

_Why?_ Junmyeon asks with his eyes.

And for a second, his Jongin comes back, eyes brimming with guilt. But then the moment is gone and he is replaced by Kai, who snorts and pokes at his friends so they can snicker at Junmyeon.

Junmyeon doesn’t question it. Because Kai has always loved following fads, always wanting to be what’s _in_.

And in the school at the moment, tormenting Junmyeon was _in_.

_Jun, I wish I was like you. Everyone wants to be your friend…_

Jongin had always been ambitious. He started dressing differently, started styling his hair, started being trendy. Junmyeon wished he hadn’t done that. He was Jongin, who was the most beautiful when he was his gentle self. But he said nothing, content in being Jongin’s friend, his confidant.

_Jonginie… it’s not weird, right? You don’t hate me, right…?_

_It’s not weird at all, Junmyeon,_ he’d laughed _. To be honest, I think I’m the same._

Looking back, Junmyeon knows he shouldn’t have confessed, shouldn’t have poured his heart out on paper where anyone could see.

_I’m sorry Jun. They saw your letter to me and I panicked. I’m really sorry._

That was two months ago. And ever since then Junmyeon had become the school pariah, his pristine image transforming into that of an obsessed stalker overnight. He wasn’t an idiot—he knew how the society he was in viewed boys who liked other boys. But he hadn’t expected this much disgust, this much revulsion from people who just yesterday had been his friends.

The bell rings and it’s time for lunch. Junmyeon does not waste time and hurriedly takes his bag and make his way out of class. Going to the cafeteria was just inviting disaster. He‘d learned that the day after he was outed and lunchbreak consisted of having juice poured on his head while people hissed, _Serves you right, faggot._

He makes his way to the rooftop—it was one of the remaining privileges that he had left as the council president: a key to the door. He slots it in place and quickly slips outside, slamming the door shut behind him. He double-checks the lock, and he finally breathes. He was fine. He was safe here. No one, not even Kai could reach him here.

Junmyeon reaches into his pocket, taking the pieces of paper out. He sits on the floor, and slowly starts putting the torn pieces back together.

_Junmyeon-ssi,_

_From the moment I saw you I thought you were an angel. You were always so bright, so unreachable, so smart and so delicate yet strong. I think I’m in love with you. Will you please go on a date with me?_

_-Jongin_

That he’d signed it as Jongin and not Kai was not lost on Junmyeon. The words were real, the letter was real. And the two of them are the only ones who will ever know. Because outside of this letter Jongin was no more. There was only Kai. And Kai was popular and not gay and most definitely was not in love with Junmyeon.

A lone tear drops onto the letter, and a harsh wind blows the pieces away.

Junmyeon watches them fly, and wishes the wind had also taken his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you mean this is another angst collection i don't know what you're talking about :)))
> 
> i like kudos and i LOVE comments pls talk to me T.T


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